The Rule of Threes, Marcy Campbell [short novels to read .TXT] 📗

“I’m going to sit at this long table,” he said. “It’s one of the cleanest ones.”

“Yeah, but it’s right by the door, so you’ll be distracted every time someone comes in or out,” I said.

Don’t get me started on room arrangements. Different purposes call for different spaces. The outer office at school, for example, had many different purposes, which was part of what made it a real challenge to decorate. Here, the purpose was clear—a distraction-free lunch for Tony and his mom.

“Take the corner one,” I suggested. “It’s bigger, and there’s lots of light.”

I took off my coat and looked the place over. It was clear they had just redecorated, going for that seventies vibe that was so popular right now. Grandma was right: eventually, everything came back into style. There were live plants on top of a low wall, which separated a section of booths from tables. I could smell the dirt, so someone must have just watered them. I reached out and rubbed a leaf between my thumb and finger. There were so many realistic-looking fake plants these days, but these were the real deal.

“Okay, I’ll sit at the corner one, and you can sit in this booth,” Tony said, pointing to one just on the other side of the wall.

“Oh,” I said, “you don’t want me to sit with you?”

“I think I might need a few minutes with just her. Then I’ll call you over.”

“Okay,” I said, heading to the booth. This was actually easier, less awkward.

“I think she’s really going to like you,” Tony added, and I smiled back at him.

He seemed really nervous, which was totally understandable. I felt nervous, too. I wasn’t sure why. Did it really matter whether Tony’s mom liked me? Maybe not, but I wanted her to anyway. I wondered what she looked like. Movies made it seem like people who used drugs looked really scary, but I didn’t know if I believed that was true. I guessed I was about to find out.

I slipped into the booth and studied the space to keep my mind occupied while Tony paced around. The walls were orange, except for one accent wall that was green, and there were framed pictures of ocean scenes hanging on the walls. That seemed out of place for a Midwestern McDonald’s but reminded me of our family trip to the beach. I’d been thinking about that trip a lot lately, about finding the shell with my dad. I’d been holding the shell a lot lately, too.

It was hard now to remember that trip without thinking about Tony, without wondering what it would have been like to have Tony along. It was hard to remember anything now without also remembering that, since second grade, Mom knew about Tony, and Dad had known much longer than that. So, like, when I had my fifth birthday party where I rode a pony, Dad knew Tony was out there, getting ready for his sixth birthday. When I lost my first tooth, did my dad wonder if Tony had lost his? Did the tooth fairy come to Tony’s apartment?

I didn’t know if I’d ever stop thinking stuff like that. About the before and after of my life. Before Tony and After Tony, like those pages in a design magazine.

The door facing the parking lot opened, and a gray-haired woman I recognized as Tony’s social worker came in, followed by a thin lady with lots of freckles wearing a green turtleneck and jeans. Her black hair was pulled into a curly ponytail, and her face looked very pale, except for a thick slash of red lipstick.

The woman spotted Tony and went quickly toward him, pulling him into her for a rib-cracking hug. She was shorter than he was. She wasn’t what I’d expected, though I’m not sure I had a clear picture of what I’d expected. I guess I wasn’t expecting her to look so normal, as normal as my own mom, though they didn’t look alike at all. My mom had long, blond hair, and was pretty curvy. My mom also wore a lot of makeup, or at least she did when she was going out to show houses. Tony’s mom wore lipstick like she wasn’t used to wearing it. The color wasn’t right for her.

I don’t know why I was comparing her to my mom, but that made me think about Dad, which made me think about his cheating, which made me feel . . . gross again. I wanted to hate this mousy little woman sitting across from Tony, to blame her for everything, but it was hard when I knew she was sick, and when I knew how much Tony loved her, and when I knew, no matter how much I loved my dad, that he’d messed up. “I missed you so much,” I could hear her say, and then she murmured something else, close to Tony’s ear, that I didn’t catch. The social worker cleared her throat and gestured toward the corner table, where Tony had tossed his coat. They all took a seat.

I wished I’d sat farther away. I was suddenly very aware that I looked like an idiot sitting in the booth by myself with no food. I thought of the BFFs and wished we were all here together, laughing and eating Happy Meals, but when was the last time we were together, happy? I could barely remember.

I hadn’t brought any money because Tony had said he’d treat me. I reached instinctively into my pocket for my phone so I’d have something to do, but remembered it was charging back home on the kitchen counter. The only thing I’d brought was my yellow striped umbrella because it was supposed to rain today. Grandma would be proud of my preparedness, I thought, and I wondered what she was doing at home right now. She was probably sleeping. She’d been doing an awful lot of that.

The three old guys were sipping large cups of coffee, their baseball caps lined up